


One Small Problem

by Darkina



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Bathing/Washing, Brother/Brother Incest, Dubious Consent, Episode: s02e13 Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons, Fuck Or Die, Guilty!Stan, Honey, Incest, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Macro/Micro, Microphilia, Paralysis, Potions, Sex Magic, Sex Pollen, Sibling Incest, Size Difference, Size Kink, Twincest, Twins, Urination, dubcon, tiny elf!Ford
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-06-09 18:43:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6918727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkina/pseuds/Darkina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stanley takes matters into his own hands to defeat the math wizard who shrank his twin brother and nephew, he causes a tiny problem that isn't going away any time soon. With Ford small enough to fit in Stan's hand, they must team up to find a cure for Ford's little predicament. [Stancest]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Brother

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I saw some super hot microphilia art with tiny elf!Ford from the “Dungeons Dungeons & More Dungeons” episode and had to make this sin. In this story, Grenda never came along with them to defeat Probabilitor. ENJOY.  
>  **Story is Stancest. Don't like, don't read.**
> 
>  
> 
> [My main tumblr](http://ladydarkina.tumblr.com)  
> [My GF tumblr](http://darkinapines.tumblr.com)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where Stanley ruins everything.

“Stanley, no!” Ford yelled, but it was too late.

Stan laughed maniacally as he watched Probabilitor the Annoying burn in sync with the flames licking up from the game box they had brought along with them.

“Nothing a little bit of magical fire can't fix!” Stan put his hands on his hips and leaned back.

Mabel was overjoyed beside him.

“Oh yeah, that's how we do it! IN YOUR FACE, you creepy old wizard!” she taunted.

The Mathemagician just screamed as he burst into a shower of sparkling ash and the game board fizzled out of existence. His magical constructs shattered and the parts faded into the sky.

Leaving Stanford and Dipper at just under 5 inches tall.

 

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” Ford kicked at the ground in frustration, “We had that perfectly under control, Stanley! Now what are we supposed to do!?”

“Uhhhh, Great Uncle Ford,” Dipper looked down at his tiny elven body, “Shouldn't we have, I dunno, gone back to normal by now?”

“Yeah, Dipper,” Mabel giggled, “Grow up, why don't you. Literally!”

Stan shrugged, staring down at the two tiny family members, “Whatever, just use that… grow-y, shrink-y doohickey the kids have.”

“Damnit, Stanley!” Ford yelled furiously, “That won't help these, will it!?”

Ford brought his hands up to gesture at his elven ears.

“What’s one more weirdo mutation,” Stan brushed it off, “I'm sure it will go away eventually, right?”

Ford hissed in annoyance, letting the mutation comment slide, “No, it won't. Not if my guess is correct. Gather up what's left of the game box, let's get back to the shack so I can start researching how to undo this spell.”

 

As Stan scraped together the charred remains of the box, Dipper was hyperventilating against a small rock.

“I'm… I'm going to be like this forever? I'll have to get plastic surgery for my freaky elf ears!” he clutched at his small chest.

“It's okay, Dip Dop,” Mabel scooped him up, “I think they're adorable! I mean, you're no Hot Elf, but still. Chicks dig pointy ears!”

“Not helping!!” Dipper shrieked.

“Oh, calm down, we’ll fix you,” Mabel placed Dipper on her shoulder and patted him on the head, “But I wouldn't be complaining if you stayed like this forever! You're so cuuute!”

Dipper groaned in dismay and clutched on to Mabel's hair to steady himself.

Stan shifted from foot to foot, staring down at the furious Ford.

“So, uh, do I pick you up, orrrr….?” he stumbled over his words.

“Try not to drop me,” Ford grumbled.

It wasn't a yes, but Stan kneeled down, joints creaking, and held his hand out flat for Ford to step into.

Ford used his hand to grasp on to his twins thumb, and stepped up into Stan’s palm.

The walk back was tense, only broken slightly by Mabel’s goodnatured chattering with a stressed Dipper.

 

The first thing they tried when they got back to the shack was the resizing flashlight.

Dipper waited, perched on the easy chair after extracting a promise from everyone not to sit on him. Stan stood against the far wall, arms crossed.

“Alright Mabel,” Ford instructed her as he positioned himself with enough room to grow back to full size, “Go ahead.”

“BOOP!” Mabel said as she pressed the flashlight button. And nothing happened.

Whatever magic was affecting their appearance was immune to the resizing crystal.

“Oh, jeez,” Dipper clenched his hands into his hair.

“Fuck!” Ford clenched his fists, and pushing down the urge to hit something. This wouldn't make researching easy. How was he supposed to get out his books, take notes, do anything at all?

“Language!” Stanley gave him a glare, “If I'm not allowed to swear, neither are you! We aren't in your weird dimension anymore, Sixer!”

“I'll… I'll swear if I so choose!” Ford deflated a little, “Sorry, kids.”

“It's fine, I know worse ones!” Mabel replied with a grin on her face. She scooped up a protesting Dipper and plopped herself onto the chair.

“So I guess you're stuck that size, huh, Poindexter,” Stan had the decency to look at least slightly ashamed.

“And whose fault is that!? God, Stanley, why couldn't you just have listened to me!?” Ford pointed up at the brother who dwarfed him, “For once!”

“Well, **sorry** for trying to save you!” Stan spat the words sarcastically, “I guess I should have just left you there!”

Mabel sat on the armchair with Dipper perched on her lap, as they both grew uneasy with the conflict in front of them.

“You’re too impulsive, Stanley! You never listen! You act, without any regard for consequences. You never think!” Ford waved his tiny arm angrily at Stan as he yelled.

“Oh, here we go, big dumb Stanley isn’t smart enough for anything,” Stan rolled his eyes, “Why is it every time I save you, you can’t just… Augh, forget it.”

Stan waved a hand dismissively and stomped out of the room.

 

Ford awkwardly rubbed the side of his head and glanced over to Dipper and Mabel who were feigning interest in the side table and carpet, respectively.

“Sorry you had to see that, kids,” he muttered, ashamed, “I’ve just... It’s been a rough day.”

“Tell me about it,” Dipper grumbled.

“Come on, Dipper,” Mabel had him cradled in her hands, “Let's watch the second showing of Duck-tective! It will cheer you up!”

The small twin sighed, “Sure, Mabel. Let's watch it.”

He paused and glanced up at her.

“Thanks,” he smiled ruefully.

“Do you want to watch, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel smiled and stretched a hand down to the ground.

“No. Thanks Mabel, but I should get researching this counterspell,” Ford shook his head, “The sooner we can get back to normal the better.”

“Fair enough,” Mabel shrugged happily, as she settled Dipper beside her on the side table and reached for the remote.

 

“Whoaaaa,” Ford rolled away and dodged the large book cover as it fell nearly on top of him. He pulled himself to his feet, and clambered up on the pages of the now open book. It had taken him the better part of an hour to climb up and pull the required tome from its spot on the shelf, and another half hour to work his way back down to the floor after he’d pushed it off the edge.

Stan peeked his head into the door, obviously drawn there by the loud smack of the books cover hitting the floor.

“Jeez, Sixer, you gotta be careful,” he grumbled, “Can’t have you getting squashed flat before we can fix you.”

Ford only grunted as he flicked through the page corners, searching for the chapter on glamours and shapeshift spells.

“It's like you have something wrong with you that won't let you ask for help,” Stan continued, walking into the room and looking vaguely discomfited.

“I think you've helped quite enough already, Stanley,” Ford replied, not taking his eyes from the pages.

“Well it's dangerous,” Stan waved a hand at him, “You're all… tiny.”

Ford sighed, unable to argue the point.

“It's true, I... would get Dipper to help but… Well, that's not really an option for obvious reasons,” the small twin sounded irritated, “He's as likely to ‘get squashed’ as I am.”

Ford used his six fingered hands to make air quotes as he said “get squashed”.

“I mean, I can help,” Stan growled out awkwardly, “Since you're all puny and useless. It's the least I could do.”

Ford blinked in disbelief.

“Is that why you're down here?” Ford raised one eyebrow dubiously.

“Just accept it already, you stubborn old geezer,” Stan huffed.

“You're the same age as I am!” Ford exclaimed, unable to contain the amusement in his voice.

“Nah, you're 15 minutes older, technically, old man,” Stan teased back. Ford rolled his eyes.

“Fine, if you want to help, grab me that blue covered book on the desk, and bring it down here,” he replied.

Stan walked over and grabbed the book, saying, “See, was that so hard? You're welcome, by the way.”

“I have to concentrate, Stanley,” Ford shook his head, as his brother laid the book beside him. He was reading, and so missed the flash of annoyance in his younger twins eyes.

 

Two hours later, Stan was griping about being bored. He had been helpful enough, fetching books and papers for the tiny man, and even found a small pencil he swiped from Keno night at the bar. However Ford’s appreciation for Stan’s help was starting to wear thin with every fresh complaint from his brother.

“Please, Stanley!” Ford took his glasses off and massaged the bridge of his nose.

“I'm just saying, being that size could be handy!” Stan continued, “If it's this much work to fix it, maybe we should just learn to live with it. Think of how big titties will be for you! Boobs as big as mountains!” Stan chuckled and made a gesture clearly suggesting looking up at giant breasts.

“Ugh, you won't **be** the one living with it!” Ford yelled, “ **I** will! And did you forget about Dipper!? He can't stay that way!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Stan looked ashamed, “You're right, I just… Can we even fix this? I'm just trying to get you to look on the bright side!”

“Well just…” Ford ground his teeth together, “Don't.”

“I'm going to go get a drink,” Stan was clearly pissed off, “I'll be back in a bit to make sure you're not a tiny corpse from taking some fool chance you didn't need to take.”

And then the larger twin was gone.

 

Ford took another deep breath and walked over to grab the edge of the next page. Taking the large paper and pulling as he stepped up onto the open book, he cursed himself for not asking Stanley to turn one last page before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He smol.


	2. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unfamiliar ceiling, a bathroom emergency and breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, folks! Took a writing break, but I'm back! Enjoy this latest installment!

Ford groggily lifted his head. His hand darted towards where he normally kept his gun, and he felt himself tense when he found nothing there. Awareness slowly dawned on him; he wasn’t dimension hopping. He was back in the shack. He hated waking up somewhere unfamiliar.

And this was more unfamiliar than usual. He was curled up on a giant book, hugging a pencil that came up to his waist, with what seemed to be a washcloth draped over him. 

Ford’s brows drew together in confusion. Someone had clearly been in the room and put this makeshift blanket on him after he'd passed out while researching. He rolled over, stood and shook out the elven robes that seemed to be part of the spell. Inspecting the embroidered sleeves, he wondered if the enchanted clothes would even be able to be removed. He wagered he'd find out now, as he had to urinate rather badly. He was hoping for a yes.

After searching around in the corners of the room for something to pee into, he found an old cap from a two litre bottle of Pitt. It had obviously rolled under the shelving unit and been forgotten. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he arranged it in such a way that no one would be able to see him if they wandered in. This was not ideal, but it would take him a long time to even get to the closest bathroom in the shack, and he'd never be able to scale the side of the toilet. 

Fumbling at the outfit, he finally managed to unlace some key components and was able to slip his penis out. Ford sighed in relief as he relaxed and let the stream of urine flow. Or attempted to. At this size, he should have realised it wouldn't come out in a stream. The surface tension of the liquid meant it was coming out in blobs that would hang from the tip, growing steadily, and then drip off. Gasping at the odd sensation, he filled the cap almost to the rim and was relieved when it didn't overflow. Shaking off his thick cock, he tucked it back into his breeches and managed to lace them back up properly.

With that taken care of, he made a mental note to come back and clean up the cap, and wandered out to see if he could find some breakfast.

 

The smell of bacon and eggs greeted him as he emerged from the room. Looking up across the vast expanse, he could see his brother and Mabel at the stove. 

“Good morning!” he yelled up, “What's for breakfast?”

Mabel was the first to hear him, and she looked over at the door by reflex, before adjusting her line of sight more downwards.

“Hey, Grunkle Ford!” She scampered over and kneeled down in front of him. He jumped slightly as she wrapped her hand around him and lifted him up. The sensation of being grabbed was uncomfortable and made him feel powerless. It reminded him of being tossed around by the massive frost monsters of Dimension 89. The feeling was thankfully short lived, as Mabel placed him gently on the kitchen table.

Dipper was there, seated at a tiny table, eating some food from a miniature plate. While the food may have seemed like a tiny amount to whoever served it, it was still a massive pile for the likes of the two shrunken humans.

“Morning, Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper waved, his mouth full, “have a seat!” Dipper gestured with a miniature fork that was still oversized for him.

Mabel piped up, “I knew my dollhouse accessories I found at that yard sale would come in handy! You guys look so cute using the little table! If you want I can get my doll clothes too!?”

Dipper and Ford both blurted out a firm, horrified “No!” before awkwardly trying to look thankful.

“That… won't be necessary. Thank you, Mabel,” Ford took a seat. Mabel said, “Suit yourself,” and ran to the stove to get more food.

 

Stan shot a look at Ford as he finished up at the stove and brought his plate to the table. Mabel placed a miniature plate of bacon and eggs on the small table in front of her tiny great uncle. It was far too much for him to eat, but he appreciated it nonetheless.  There was a little chunk of toast on the side of the plate. It looked as if the bread had been sliced very thin before being toasted. Ford thanked Mabel and picked up his own doll cutlery, taking a bite. He dug into the food, ravenous. Everyone ate silently for some time until Dipper spoke up.

“Did you find a way to break the spell yet?” Dipper looked fretful.

“Maybe,” the small man said cautiously, “I don't want to speak too soon, but I did have something of a breakthrough last night.”

“I knew you'd figure it out!” Dipper leaned forwards, “What did you find?”

“It's a magic lock,” Ford sighed, “I've encountered this before. You have to unlock it before you can even start analyzing the magic to find a counterspell.”

He carded his hands through his hair, “It's not going to be easy to break.”

Ford stared longingly at Stan’s mug of coffee, before taking the another bite of his eggs. It seemed they had forgotten to get drinks for their smaller siblings.

Stan had been silent this entire time, which was unlike him. 

 

“Well, if there's anything you need,” Stan finally spoke as he stood to put his plate in the sink, “Just let me and Mabel know.” 

Ford couldn't help himself, and he blurted out, “Mabel and I.” before he could stop it.

Stan froze, facing away from them in front of the coffee machine and Ford internally kicked himself. It would probably be best not to fight with Stan while he was less than half a foot tall. 

Ford saw Stan’s back muscles slightly relax from their tensed state. 

“Sure, whatever, Poindexter,” Stan said dismissively, and fussed with something on the counter.

 

The sound of Mabel gasping loudly startled Ford and Dipper, who jumped slightly.

“I'm going to go make you guys some tiny sweaters!!!!!” Mabel grinned and ran off after putting her plate away. Ford shook his head, smiling. Trust Mabel to find the positives in any situation.

“Great Uncle Ford, is there anything I can help you with?” Dipper leaned over the table, his pointed ears still jarring to see.

“Why yes, Dipper!” Ford nodded, “the magic lock seems to be set up using a complex mathematical equation. You should come join me! We’ll crack it in no time with your help, I'm sure.”

Dipper’s eyes lit up like fireworks, and he jumped to his feet.

“When can we start!?” the young boy was practically hopping up and down in excitement.

“Let me just finish this breakfast, Dipper,” Ford took another bite, and glanced over to Stanley at the counter nervously, “It's really quite tasty.”

“I always was the better cook,” Stan growled.

“That's definitely not t-” Ford stopped himself, “a lie. This is really very good. Thank you, Stanley.” 

“Yeah, thanks for breakfast, Grunkle Stan!” Dipper smiled.

Stan didn't seem to have caught Ford’s last minute correction, and he came over to the table with something held in his hands. He awkwardly held out two thimbles to the tiny pair.

“Thought these would make nifty mugs,” Stan looked embarrassed as the two mini humans took the thimbles gingerly. They were more like jugs at their size, and there was no way he’d be able to finish.

Ford stared in disbelief at the cup of coffee and took a sip. It was just how he liked it.

“Kids can have coffee right?” Stan laughed, as Dipper took a drink as well and nearly spat out the bitter liquid.

Ford felt his mouth tighten, and wondered how his brother could be so considerate and yet so irresponsible at the same time.

 

Hours later, Dipper let out a jubilant whoop. 

“I think we’ve done it, my boy!” Ford was overjoyed.

The sigils and numbers drawn on the page glowed green for a second, pulsed, and then shattered, spreading a gentle sparkling dust over the two.

Dipper shivered, the glow fading on his elven outfit. “What now?” he asked.

Ford rubbed his large hands together, “Now, we do a quick scrying spell, and figure out what spell is causing this. And then we perform the counterspell!”

“That's amazing, Great Uncle Ford!” Dipper looked awestruck, before pausing, “Will that be difficult?”

“Ah, not usually,” Ford waved his hand dismissively, “It’s something like creating antivenin, but with runes and magical items.”

“Should we try now?” the young boy had both his hands in fists and looked ready to get started.

“Yes, let's grab some food first and then do the scrying,” Ford felt his spirits lift. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This keeps getting more and more plotty, so I apologize for anyone who was waiting for the sex. I am so bad at writing one-offs, I always want to expand the story and emotions around it! GAH! Oh well, I hope you're enjoying it so far anyway!


	3. Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to go hunting for the magical supplies. But can Stan and Ford stop bickering for long enough to find the last ingredient?

The whole family was at the kitchen table, books and papers laid out.  
Ford and Dipper were standing beside the largest book.  
“And this is the ingredient list,” Ford used the inch long pencil as a pointing stick.  
Mabel and Stan leaned in to peer at the list of odd items.  
“I knew you'd figure it out!” Mabel reached out to ruffle Dipper’s hair with her pointer finger, “You may have gotten shrunk, but your brain is still the same size!”  
She paused, “but not literally, because weird, right?”  
Dipper laughed and pushed her giant finger off his head with both hands, “Uncle Ford says we can get all of this stuff really easily, except for one thing.”  
“He's correct,” Ford nodded, “The nectar of the Mystery Lily. It should grow in these parts, but it's elusive and difficult to track down. I have samples of the petals in storage but… It's the nectar that's required.”  
“Great!” Mabel stood, “Let's go get it!”  
Stan stepped forward to put a hand on her shoulder, “You kids aren't coming, it's too dangerous.”  
Both Dipper and Mabel protested but Stan remained firm.  
“Stanley is right, kids,” Ford spoke, “The flower only grows in areas that happen to be very dangerous. Stan and I will go and retrieve it, while you two stay here.”

Dipper and Mabel argued and pouted, but finally had to concede that having not one but two tiny people to protect would end up being a problem.

  
The preparations for the expedition were going slowly until Mabel piped up.  
“Why don't we just shrink down some supplies with our shrinking flashlight? Just because we can't use it on you guys doesn't mean we can't minify stuff like gloves and compasses and stuff!” she asked the room.

Everyone stared back at her in shock.  
Finally Ford chuckled and said, “Good thinking Mabel, I feel silly for not thinking of that myself.”   
He tossed aside the failed tiny gloves he'd been attempting to make himself.  
Dipper looked annoyed that Mabel had made a more helpful suggestion than he had, and muttered, “It's miniaturize, not minify.”

“Good call, kid!” Stan grabbed the flashlight from the counter and began shrinking various supplies down.

When the preparations were done, Stan and Ford stood in the living room with backpacks full of gear. Food, scientific apparatus, specimen jars and the like were crammed in both Stan's full sized bag as well as Ford’s tiny one. Both men had plastic gloves on to avoid contaminating the nectar sample.

“Stay safe,” Mabel kneeled down and handed her shrunken down grappling hook to Ford.

“Mabel, I…” Ford was overcome by emotion, he knew how much that gun meant to Mabel.  
“Just say you'll take care of Grunkle Stan okay?” she smiled at him.  
“I will, Mabel, thank you,” he patted her finger and took the grappling hook, sliding it inside his cloak.  
“Take care of ME?” Grunkle Stan looked affronted, “He's two inches tall!”  
“Closer to five, actually,” Ford grumbled.  
“Are you guys sure you don't want any help?” Dipper looked on longingly from his perch on Mabel’s shoulder.  
“We’ll be fine, Dipper,” Ford shook his head, “Just stay here and we’ll be back before you know it.”  
And then they were off.

  
As the two walked down the path to the forest entrance, Stan looked down at his smaller brother.   
“This will go a lot faster if I carry you,” he awkwardly suggested.  
Ford looked mildly uncomfortable.  
“I suppose you're right. If we want to get back before dark, I should probably… ride on your hand,” he managed to say reluctantly.

An hour later, Ford saw some interesting plant growth from his vantage point on the palm of his brother’s hand.  
“Here!” Ford patted Stan’s thumb, “Put me down, I’d like to take a soil sample.”  
“Sure, fine, get your dirt,” Stan lowered himself to the ground and extended his hand.  
Ford stepped down from his brothers’ hand and knelt to the earth as Stan stood back up and cracked his back.  
“Every time you make me bend down like that I think it takes another year off my life,” Stan griped.  
Ford made a small ‘tch’ sound and tested the soil with a tiny strip of paper.  
“It looks like the soil alkalinity is perfect for the lily to grow…” Ford stood up and looked around, dusting his hands off on his tiny cloak.  
“Well, where is it then?” Stan grumbled, hand still braced on his back.  
“Now there’s a particular bee that is the main pollinator of this specific species of flower so we should be on the lookout for-” Ford was cut off by a loud smacking sound.  
“Stanley! We needed that insect!” Ford was horrified as the bluish-purple striped bee spiralled to land on the ground a foot away from him with a thump.  
“Well, it should've thought of that before it stung me!” the larger twin sounded affronted.  
“Well, I hope you're happy, Stanley!” Ford was shouting, “That was our best chance to find the last ingredient! Who knows if we’ll see another? How will we find the damned flower now!?”  
“I dunno!” Stan yelled back, hurting Ford’s sensitive elven ears, “Figure it out with your giant nerd brain!”  
“Just because you feel stupid doesn't give you the right to take it out on me, Stanley!” Ford was furious now, “You keep screwing everything up! This whole situation is your fault!”  
“Well, then,” Stan narrowed his eyes, “I guess you don't need me around then. Since I'm just screwing everything up!”  
“I guess I don't!” Ford yelled back.  
“Fine!” Stan stalked off into the bushes, leaving a seething Ford alone in the forest.

The tiny elven eared man continued pushing through the wild, undeterred from his quest.  
“This is child's play compared to Dimension 432,” he muttered under his breath.  
He must have walked for only half an hour before he detected an odd smell. It was sweet, almost sickeningly so, with a faint astringent undertone. The flower he sought had a unique smell that was described in the folklore. Just going by the description it was a good bet this was the flower. That bee being close was a good sign. It was obviously returning to it's hive from the flower, or vice versa. Craning his neck, and taking small sniffs, he searched the area nearby for the source.

That was when he saw it. A tall dark green plant, with a large purple bloom at the top. _Lilium irregularis_ , the Mystery Lily.

With a small grin, Ford grabbed his rope and threw it up over one of the leaves above him. Looping the rope and wrapping his hands, he started to pull himself up the plant.

 

Stan stomped through the brush, pushing aside the branches and muttering furiously.  
“Damned fool, thinks he's so smart,” he grumbled, “I'd like to see him try and do this himself.”  
Stanley spared a second to let guilt flush through his body. After 30 years trying to get his brother back, he had left him to fend for himself, alone in a creepy weird forest. Stan sighed heavily and came to a stop.  
“Fuck,” he rolled his eyes, “I gotta go back for him.”

 

Grunting with effort, Ford finally hoisted himself onto the topmost leaf.

Standing up, he surveyed the flower. The stem was like a tree trunk to him. But it was doable. If he timed it right, he could use the grappling hook to snag the stem and pull the flower down to harvest the nectar.

‘It would have been much easier if Stanley hadn't stormed off,’ Ford thought, ‘he could have just harvested it for us. But there’s nothing for it. I'll just have to do it myself.’

Ford braced himself and pulled out the miniaturized grappling hook. He aimed carefully and fired. It hooked the plant’s stem just under the bloom, just as he'd hoped. It was as the flower started to tip that Ford realised this scenario may not go the way he'd wanted. It was too late, as the plant was already discharging a torrent of thick nectar right towards him. Like it was being poured from the flower like a cup, he could only cover his face and turn away as the golden flow coated his entire body.

 

Stanley heard a faint cry and pushed himself to the limit. He burst into a small clearing where he could see a large purple flower shaking around. He crept closer cautiously, and heard his name called again. He lurched forwards and pushed the leaves aside to find a miniature Ford gasping on the mossy ground, covered in a pale gold slime.  
Stan burst into laughter at the sight.   
“Wow, Sixer,” he shook his head, “You really know how to-”  
“Stanley, I was wrong,” Ford interrupted him.  
Stan heard the urgency in his brother's’ voice and fell silent.  
“You need to… we need to get back to the house,” Ford was frantic, “You still have your gloves on? We need to-”  
Ford wrapped his arms around his midsection and groaned as he curled in on himself. He was crouched on his knees, and looked like he could topple over at any minute.  
“Sixer… Stanford, what's wrong?” Stan kneeled down in concern and reached out a cautious hand.  
“Stanley, it's…” Ford could barely choke the words out, “I was wrong. It wasn't _Lilium irregularis vulgaris_ … I thought that was the only kind that grew this far north.”

The paralysis was starting to creep over his body, and Ford knew he didn't have much time left.  
“It's a subspecies. It was a _Lilium irregularis fervourous_ ,” he squirmed in discomfort.  
Stan kneeled above his brother, gloved hands clenching and unclenching.  
“What does that mean?” Stan managed to ask, “Can we still use it for the spell?”  
“Yesss,” Ford hissed out, “but we need to get it off of me. It's… very hazardous. If we don't get back in time…”  
“Shut it, Poindexter,” Stan grabbed his minuscule brother in his gloved hands, “We’ll get you back.”

Stan raced through the brush, knowing he'd be feeling it in his muscles tomorrow. Held cradled in his hands was a nectar coated man who was groaning softly. The pained sound spurred him to go faster. He could only hope he’d get back in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise it gets sexy next chapter. I PROMISE.


	4. Bathtime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is of the essence, and Ford needs Stanley to wash off the nectar. Then it gets awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, folks. Sorry about the wait! I've had this one in progress for a while, but I've been so busy I hadn't gotten a chance to polish it until now.   
> It's getting sexy!
> 
> Check out the fabulous art by [Tomo-robo here!](http://tomorobo-illust-nsfw.tumblr.com/post/152208408383/finally-remembered-to-post-this-drew-this-way)

Stan burst through the door of the shack, panting in exhaustion.  
“Should we call the kids?” he asked the tiny form in his hands.  
“N-no!” Ford sounded vehement, “Don't! Not under any circums-” Ford paused to moan softly.  
“Don't let them see me like this,” Ford finished weakly.  
Stan felt his insides clench and nodded.  
“Your bathroom should su-suffice,” Ford murmured, “Keep quiet, just… quickly, Stanley.”  
Stan rushed to the bathroom closest to his room. Ford was weakly writhing in his hands.  
Stan felt the sweat inside his gloves, wishing he could take them off but knowing it was too dangerous still.

Stan locked the door behind him, and turned to the counter.  
“I'm just lucky I didn't get any on my face,” Ford murmured thickly, “I can still talk and breathe. But it…” He paused to groan as his body shook convulsively.  
“... It needs to be washed off. And soon. Stanley, I'm sorry but I need you to do this, I'm paralysed. As long as the nectar remains, I can't move.”

Stan’s brain was like a pinball machine, hectic thoughts battering the limits of his mind.  
“Fine… uh, I'll just… Sorry,” Stan mumbled as he started pulling on Ford’s sticky cloak.  
“Stanley,” Ford managed to speak, “Use the tweezers in the medicine cabinet, or just use scissors. I need this stuff off me now!”  
Stan grabbed the scissors, feeling more comfortable with snipping the clothes off than about slowly undressing his brother.  
Stan swallowed nervously. Stripping his brother naked was not on the list of things he wanted to do this week. Or, like, ever. Granted, when they were teens he'd had a couple of questionable dreams about Ford, but that was to be expected of a horny young man. Right?

He eased the scissors into the hem of Ford’s robe carefully, and glanced at Ford’s face.  
“This okay?” Stan croaked out.

“Yes,” the tiny man groaned, “Just be careful.”  
Everything came off easily except for the tiny plastic gloves, and Stan had to use the tweezers combined with Ford wiggling his fingers to get them off.

Once the nectar soaked clothes were set aside in a sealed plastic bag for later use in the spell, Stan took a deep breath. Ford was laying in his gloved hand, completely naked. Even through the gloves he was wearing, Stan could feel the warmth of his tiny brother. He tried not to look at his brothers’ naked form, but couldn't help himself. Ford laid still in his palm, eyes downcast to the side. The elven ears were delicate and charming somehow. Stan shook his head to clear the thought. Ford’s body was scarred, and he had a small tattoo, too small to tell what it was. The tiny body was… well, in better shape than Stan’s own. He was in incredible shape, to be honest. Stan spared a glance at his brother's crotch and was unsurprised to see it was similar to his own. He was surprised to see his length was incredibly hard. Solid and pulsing slightly, it took over Stan’s field of vision. Stan tore his eyes away and remembered it was his brother for gods’ sake, and he needed to get this nectar off him.  
“Guess I should, uh, get the water going,” Stan said awkwardly.  
“Please,” Ford murmured, “Soon…”  
Stan swallowed loudly and began to fill the sink with warm water.

He only let it fill to four inches, and then dipped a finger of his free hand to test the temperature.  
“Okay, Sixer,” the larger brother took a breath, “Time for your bath.”

“Please,” Ford sounded small and frightened, “don't let me drown.”

Stan felt his brows come together, “Come on Sixer, you really think I spent thirty years learning quantum physics to get you back only to let you drown in four inches of water?”  
Ford let out a shakey chuckle.  
“I… suppose not,” Ford closed his eyes as Stan lowered his body into the water.

The nectar was viscous, and the water could barely remove any of it alone.  
Stan used some liquid hand soap and gently rubbed it onto the tiny body of his brother. Trying to find a balance between a gentle enough touch to leave Ford unharmed, while still removing the gooey substance.  
“Ahh-aahhnnn!” Ford groaned as he lay motionless in his brother's hand.  
Stan felt his adam’s apple move erratically as he gulped nervously.  
“H-hey there, Sixer, you doin’ okay?” he stuttered out and paused in the gentle rubbing of his fingers.  
“I'll be… fine,” Ford sounded as if he was gritting his teeth, “Just keep cleaning. Please.”  
“D-don't think I've ever heard you so polite,” Stan slid one shakey finger down Ford’s tiny abdominal muscles.  
The gasp Ford let out went straight to Stan’s cock. Followed by a powerful rush of shame. ‘This is wrong’, his mind screamed at him, ‘You're enjoying this, and it's wrong.’  
“So this flower,” Stan attempted a conversational tone as he lifted more water to pour over the small elven man, “What exactly does it do?”  
Even though Ford was so small, Stan could see his eyes trying to focus.  
“There are two types,” Ford took in a ragged breath, “What I thought we'd find was Lilium irregularis vulgaris. A-an uncommon flower, despite the name. It has.. ugh, unusual properties, but not- not dangerous.”  
Ford gasped loudly as Stan’s large finger gently nudged the side of his leaking cock.  
Stan pretended not to notice, but felt blood rushing to his own dick.  
“Yeah?” Stan sounded too casual, “So what's different?”  
The small man whimpered through laboured breathing and managed to croak out, “We found the… the Lilium irregularis fervorous, it… usually only grows in… Ahhhh! Warmer… hng… climates….”  
Stan attempted to control his breathing, as he rubbed the index finger through the rough area of pubic hair that was matted with golden nectar.  
“You gonna…” Stan swallowed, “Gonna be okay?”  
“It causes, oooohhh,” Ford was clearly exerting a great effort to stay focused, “Paralysis, p-priapism, arousal and… I-if it isn't removed, d-death.” Ford’s voice dropped to an almost inaudible level as he choked out the symptoms. He looked both desperate and embarrassed. His face was bright pink, flushed with the warmth of the water, shame, and excitement. Stan felt the tiny cock twitch against his fingertip. He wished he wasn't wearing gloves, and then realized that would probably defeat the purpose of having him here to help. Paralysed hands wouldn't be able to massage the nectar off of the tiny elven version of his twin. And despite himself, he was enjoying it.

Stan felt another stab of guilt. Ford wasn't in his right mind. This weirdo flower was making him horny.  
Stan had known deep down, but he still felt a twinge of disappointment. He should've known he was the freak in this situation. At least Ford’s hardon was easily blamed on a magical flower toxin. Stan exhaled through his teeth as he realized he had no such convenient excuse.

“Well, you're not gonna die, cause I'm gonna get you off, get this off, g-get this stuff off of you…. damnit!” Stan felt like vomiting at his verbal slip. Disgusting.

He darted a look at Ford’s face, but his eyes were slammed shut as he groaned softly. It seemed he wasn't paying attention, focused only on breathing.  
Stan's heart was beating a crazy drum solo in his chest, as he rubbed more soap into Ford’s chest. He slipped a finger around to his armpits, and scrubbed gently.  
“Talk to me, Sixer,” the larger man needed a distraction, “Anything, just stay with me.”  
Ford’s eyes slipped open but still seemed far away and distant.  
“They say ancient peoples used, ohhh, the flower as an…. an aphrodisiac… I-in small amounts it's almost, ngh, harm-harmless,” Ford rattled off facts about the flower.  
Stan chewed on his tongue and wished Ford had found something else to talk about. He used his pinkie finger to rub at Ford’s neck, removing the gritty glob of pollen and nectar there. He rinsed it off in the water. He'd have to empty it and refill soon.  
“They'd put it… in a tea. They'd give it to couples on their wedding n-niiiights,” Ford let out a long cry at the end of that sentence and lightly bucked against his brother’s finger.  
“Hey, you're getting some movement back now!” Stan’s voice was strained in its false cheer. His mouth was dry.  
Ford panted before continuing.  
“But you could overdose if there was too… Too much,” the elven man tilted his head back into Stan’s thumb, “A-an overdose meant th-that you'd be… unable t-to alleviate the symptoms. And you… you'd die.”  
Stan let out a humourless chuckle, and braced himself. The only place left to wash was the part that was hard and leaking against Ford’s belly.  
“This is all fascinatingly morbid, but I…” he looked away, “I have one more place to wash here, Sixer. You okay with that?”  
A long keening sound came out of his tiny brother, “Take care of me, Stanley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, is it warm in here? More sexiness to come.


End file.
